Summer 1947, Oklahoma
Sarah Gage cantered her horse across the ranch's expansive meadow. She breathed the grassy smell deeply, as it was the aroma of home. With school now behind her, she set her mind to learning everything about the running of the ranch. She would be ready when the reins to the ranch were handed down to her.
She slowed, nearing the new fence line where the pregnant and nursing mares would stay until the foals were weaned. Sarah would watch this corral closely, personally. She wanted to give the mothers and young the best chance of survival. A weight no doubt left from being the sole survivor of her own birth.
Not that her father and grandparents hadn't raised her lovingly. Her father doted on her – fine clothes, fine schooling. He'd transferred his love of the land to her by taking her with him all over the ranch doing all types of chores and projects – even though she was a girl. Now, it was her turn to give something back to the land that had filled her childhood and youth.
Dismounting, she walked her horse, Rosie, into the shade of a big tree in the meadow. She watched as a ranch hand carefully worked the spiked barbed wire, stringing it along the set posts, creating her outdoor nursery. She didn't know all of the hands' names yet. Some hadn't been back to the main complex since she'd returned from school. With the warm weather they just camped out here in the fields, staying close to their work.
She did not recognize this man. He was much younger than the weathered and grizzled workers that didn't stray far afield. Stripped to the waist, the sun glistened on his tanned back. His muscles rippled, bunching and stretching, under the sheen. Sarah found her herself captivated, watching the man work on her project.
He turned, facing her direction, startling her. His eyes, shaded by the brim of his hat, kept the exact target of his gaze hidden. A change in his stance told her that he'd seen her. Her stomach fluttered as she felt those unseen eyes on her.
Casually, he pulled off his gloves, the sweat-dampened leather holding the shape of his hands as he set them atop the fence post by the coil of wire. Lifting his shirt off another post, he snapped it with a sharp crack. With a flip, it settled over his shoulders, his arms easing into the rolled up sleeves in what appeared to be a well-practiced move executed perfectly.
Her feet, rooted as deeply as the tree beside her, held her fast as the man sauntered towards her. An Indian, she realized. It really shouldn't surprise her since their ranch bordered several reservations. All ranch workers were hand-picked by her father and he only accepted the best. This man's stride appeared confident as he approached, she thought. She began her own inspection.
His dark, slightly too long hair framed his face, hanging down to the base of his neck and flaring at the ends in a light curl under his hat. Sweat beaded on his brow, coursed at his hairline. His face chiseled with the trademark high cheek bones; eyes slit against the glare of the high sun. His color lead her to believe some native god had molded him from the very clay upon which she stood. He wore the roped muscle as easily as his open shirt that displayed them. Only the best – she had to agree.
"Anything I can help you with, ma'am?"
The deep voice suited him. It sounded earthy. She'd watched his Adam's apple bob as he spoke, hoping her head had not nodded along with it.
"Um, no," she said. A little voice in the back of her head kicked her – make up some reason to be here other than ogling at him. "Oh. Yes, yes…"
She grabbed Rosie's reins and pulled the horse into her story. "Rosie came up lame. I, um, I pulled a stone from her hoof. I was letting her rest here in the shade." She swallowed hard, her pride going down roughly at being reduced to telling little white lies.
He pulled off his hat, revealing his full mane of glossy black hair and wiped his face with a handkerchief from his back pocket. He replaced both the hat and the handkerchief at the same time. Another choreographed move executed with perfection.
"I can take a look at that hoof for you," he said, stepping up and taking Rosie's reins. He patted the horse gently on the nose. "There, girl."
The reins slipped from Sarah's hand as the scent of him invaded her senses. It wasn't gamey or foul, but wildly masculine. She felt intoxicated, thick headed and stomach quivering. Before she could protest, he had Rosie's foreleg raised, inspecting the hoof pad.
"This one?"
"Yes. That's the one." Sure, why not, Sarah thought. She hoped Rosie would catch on to her ruse and carry it on. She reached up and patted Rosie's neck, leaning against her animal friend for support. "Is there any bruising?" She hated the lie, but the desire to keep him here, keep talking to him, was a stronger pull.
She watched cautiously as he inspected Rosie's hoof, gently brushing away dirt, checking the fit of the shoe. Finally, he eased Rosie's leg down.
"Everything looks in good shape," he answered.
The sideways glance he gave her had a strong hint of disbelief in it, causing her to swallow hard again in a suddenly arid throat.
"Hmmm…" He rubbed his chin. "She does appear to be favoring it a little."
Sarah wanted to hug her Rosie. As Rosie lowered her leg, she settled it on the ground gently, then picked it up just a tad and resettled it. Sarah would reward Rosie for her performance with extra apples and carrots for the whole week – and extra-long rub downs.
"Well, now," he said. "Can't have the owner's daughter walking all the way back to the barn with a lame horse all by herself."
He smiled.
Sarah's pulse galloped. His smile lifted higher on the left side, making it slightly lopsided. It was incredibly…charming. What he'd said finally registered.
"You know who I am?"
He rumbled a short laugh and dipped his head a little.
Sarah smiled, detecting a trace of shyness.
"Not too many women around here, ma'am," he answered. "And you've got a lot of your daddy in you."
"Sarah Gage." She put her hand out to shake on her introduction.
He looked down at her hand, smiled broader. Gently clasping her fingers, he curled her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her proffered hand.
"Ranch hand Bill at your service, Miss Sarah."
"Bill?" Sarah pulled her hand back, slowly, not snapping it back. That was not a name she would have guessed. It did not fit this…wildly charming man. She had expected something like 'Eagle Feather' or 'Charms Ladies With Lopsided Smile'.
"Yes. Bill." He straightened, pulling back a step. "Is that not an agreeable name?"
She shook her head to clear the fog that had drifted in. "No. I mean yes." Getting the correct words out had suddenly become a difficult task for her. "Bill's a fine name." Irritated, she imagined that he thought her a blathering idiot.
"Thank you," he said, still smiling. "I think Sarah is a very fine name, too."
She uprooted her feet and took a step back, thinking that would help clear her head. She reached for Rosie's reins. "Well, Bill. Thank you for looking after Rosie. I'll just take her up to the barn and give her a good rub down."
Bill pulled the reins out of Sarah's reach. "Now, ma'am, your father would have my hide if I'd let his daughter walk alone with a lame mare all the way to the barn." He curled the reins around his hand, patted Rosie's neck. "Never know what kind of trouble might be out there."
"Now that's ridiculous," exclaimed Sarah. She was not a weak house-woman that needed tended to. "I'm perfectly capable of walking back to the barn."
"I've no doubt about that, ma'am. But I'm here so I'm escorting you two ladies back." Bill pulled on Rosie's reins. "Come on, girl. Let's get you home and out of those shoes."
Flustered, Sarah stomped after them. "And stop calling me 'ma'am'. Please."
"Yes, ma'am, Miss Sarah," Bill called over his shoulder.
Sarah huffed along with Rosie between herself and Bill. She stole looks his way and occasionally caught him looking her way. On foot the trip back was longer than she'd expected, but not anything she couldn't handle – even by herself. With her thoughts clouded with tanned skin and roped muscles, she was caught off guard when Rosie reared, snorting and stomping.
"Snake," Bill called, steering the frightened Rosie away from the coiled beast in the grass.
Sarah had never seen Rosie so agitated. The whites of her horse's eyes were huge. Putting her hands on Rosie's neck to help calm her, Sarah then heard the rattling noise from the grass ahead of them. The noise sent Rosie into a panicked fit. She kicked her back legs, reared again. Eyes wild, she snorted and stomped.
Bill shortened the reins and strained to keep the horse calm and move her at the same time, with very little success.
Sarah tried to pull the throat-lash on Rosie's bridle to get her head turned away from the snake. The snake struck, arrowing out of the grass ahead of them, straight at Bill's legs. Rosie jerked out of Sarah's grasp, jumped and twisted, knocking Sarah to the ground. The horse landed a shoed hoof on her leg before prancing away with Bill leaning hard into her front quarters.
Sarah saw the snake slither away, the grass wiggling with its passage. It was huge, at least seven feet. Sarah crawled in the opposite direction a little ways, her skin prickling with dislike for the vile serpent.
"Sarah." Bill was at her side now. "Are you all right?"
"Was that a rattler?" she asked, panting.
"No, just a very irritated Bullsnake. Big one, too." He crouched down. "They vibrate their tail in the grass to make you think they're the poisonous rattler, but they can't do anything more than scratch your skin."
"I think both me and Rosie were believing its bluff." She shivered as the adrenaline left her a little weak and achy.
"Let's get you off the ground and back home," he held out his hands to help her up. "And get Rosie safe in the barn."
He easily pulled her to her feet, but Sarah's stepped on leg shot pain through her. "Oh, ow. Oh. Oh, no."
"Sarah, what happened? What is it?" Bill's easy tone was replaced with serious concern.
Bill's arms held her tight as she held her injured leg off the ground. "Rosie stepped on me. Oooh, ouch."
Setting her gently back on the ground, Bill glanced over to make sure Rosie was still close, then looked into Sarah's face. The pain had drained most of her color and had her brow sweaty and furrowed.
"Which one?" Bill questioned.
"This one." Sarah reached for her right ankle. "Owww."
She hissed and slapped at his hands as he gently probed around her right ankle through her riding boot. "Stop."
Ignoring her, he attempted to pull her boot off her rapidly swelling ankle. He shook his head when it wouldn't budge.
"Noooo!" she yelled, pushing him away with surprising strength.
"Sarah." Bill spoke calmly. "Your leg is swelling in the boot. You'll lose circulation to your foot. I've got to get your boot off."
"No, please. It hurts."
He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "I know it does. But it'll be much worse if you leave it on." He pulled a large knife out of a sheath in his boot.
Seeing the knife, Sarah tried scooting away.
"Now, now," Bill soothed. "I'll have to cut this boot off. Your leg's too swollen to pull it off."
"No," Sarah cried softly, burying her head in her arms.
Bill went to work cutting her leather riding boot with his sharp Bowie knife. Sarah's gasps of pain tore into him as he sliced through her boot as carefully and gently as he could. When he had it cut from the top to the heel, he eased her foot out.
"Oooh." Sarah nearly fainted seeing her discolored and swelled ankle.
"Sarah, it's okay." Bill eased her down flat; let her collect herself a little. "Can you wiggle your toes?"
"Ow. Did they wiggle?"
"Yeah. Now try your foot. Move your foot."
Sarah hissed, bit her lip, but managed to get her foot to move slightly up and down.
"Good. That's good." He pulled her back up to sit, cradling her. "It's okay. Nothing appears broken, just a bad bruise, likely sprained." He was impressed that she took the whole ordeal so well. He could see that it was a painful injury. At least he'd only had to deal with the horse spooked at the snake and not a hysterical woman, too. He thought she deserved a little tenderness after all that.
"It hurts." She leaned into his shoulder, feeling weak, womanly-weak. That upset her as much as the pain in her ankle. His strong arms around her provided more comfort than she'd expected. She took a moment to steep in that strength.
"I imagine it does." He held her tight.
Reluctantly, she pulled away from him, although he kept a hand at her back. "Now what am I going to do?"
Rosie nosed Sarah's hair. The horse seemed contrite, as if she knew she'd caused her rider's injury.
Sarah reached up and patted Rosie's nose. "Just get me up on Rosie. I'll ride back."
Bill pushed Rosie back. "No, I can't do that."
Sarah dried her damp eyes with her shirt sleeve. She wanted to tell him that there was no stone in Rosie's hoof, that she was just being foolish, so let her ride the damn horse.
"Think you can hold on if I put you on my back?"
Sarah turned surprised eyes to him. He had spoken so quietly she wasn't sure if she'd heard him correctly. "What?" she asked. "You'd carry me on your back?"
He dipped his head slightly, like before. Sarah's heart skipped at his shyness.
"Well, I'm not putting Rosie on my back."
Sarah laughed, pushing at him. When he lost his balance and fell back into the grass, she laughed harder.
"Sorry," she said. "But that was silly."
He got up and hunched at her side again. "I like it better when you're laughing."
Sarah's stomach tingled. "Me, too." She straightened her injured leg, winching a little. "It does feel better now, without the boot on. Thank you."
"I knew it would." He winked at her, at her pout. "You ready to ride?"
She pulled her knees up to her chin, being careful with her right leg. Crossing her arms on her knees, she rested her forehead on them. "Just give me a minute, will you?" She needed to calm herself to be in such close contact with this wholly charming man.
Bill rose, stretching his long legs. "Sure, take all the time you need." He picked up her slit boot and tucked it in a saddle bag on Rosie's back.
"Did the snake get you when it stuck?" Sarah asked.
"No," he answered. "Kicked it away. It's not poisonous."
She raised her head and looked over at him. "You kicked a striking snake away?"
He stopped fidgeting with Rosie's saddle and smiled down at her. "I live out here. Pays to be quick on your feet."
"That's crazy," she said, shifting in the grass. "I think I'm ready now."
Bill pulled her up and steadied her as she stood on her one good leg. He turned and stooped down in front of her. With a deep breath, Sarah leaned over his back, sliding her arms over his broad shoulders and around his neck. Her stomach butterflies flitted around when he stood, lifting her feet off the ground. She felt his shoulder muscles bunch as he reached behind her knees and pulled her legs up. This felt much different than when she'd received 'piggy-back' rides from her father as a child.
Bill shifted her gently, centering her weight. "Okay?"
She nodded her head against the back of his shoulder. "Yes. Please don't hurt yourself." She felt guilty beyond reason, but couldn't make herself own up to it now.
"You weigh less than most things I tote around this ranch," he assured her. "Can you reach Rosie's reins? My hands are kind of full."
She reached her hand out and Rosie walked the two steps over to her. She grabbed the reins. "Got her."
His movement was fluid; she hardly bounced at all. Twice he'd had to shift her up higher on his back. Occasionally her sore ankle brushed against his leg as he tramped through the high grass. She'd gasp a little and he'd mumble a 'Sorry'. He never stopped, even though she'd felt his shirt soaking through with sweat. He was simply amazing and having her heart beat against his strong back made her forget about her throbbing ankle, somewhat.
Guilt started gnawing in the pit of her stomach as they reached the wood-lined edge of the ranch house complex. Rosie had kept pace, snorting and fighting her bit now and then. Sarah saw her father crossing the yard from the barn, reaching them before they reached the house.
"Hey. Here, now. What's this?" Reece Gage stopped in front of Bill. "Sarah?"
She handed him Rosie's reins. "My ankle…"
"My God," Reece said, looking at his daughter's bruised and swollen ankle. "But, why didn't you ride the horse?"
"She's … lame … hoof … stone," Bill panted.
"Willy!" Reece called to the oldest hand at the ranch. "Take Rosie to the barn. Fresh water and food. Remove her shoes and make sure there's plenty of straw in the stall." Reece handed the old man Rosie's reins.
"Bill, let me take Sarah." Bill stooped down on trembling legs and Reece scooped his daughter into his arms. "Get the door for me."
Stumbling on tired legs, Bill reached the door a half-step before the worried father.
"Follow me," Reece barked.
"I'll just go see about the horse…" Bill started. He'd never been in the main ranch house before.
"Nonsense, get in here." Reece was adamant.
Bill stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind him. Reece disappeared into the house with his daughter. Bill stayed in the entryway.
"Bill." Reece returned, without Sarah, and motioned Bill into the parlor.
"Sit down." Reece said, nearly a command, motioning Bill towards a chair.
"Please sit, Bill," Sarah said, her voice soft.
"I'm not fit for a chair like that," Bill said, sweat dripping from every pore. He stared at the fluffy, upholstered chair.
Reece gave Bill an annoyed look. "Sit down, man. How far did you carry my daughter?"
"It was half a mile if an inch, Daddy," Sarah said.
"Bill?" Reece gaped at Bill.
Sitting on as little of the chair cushion as he could manage, Bill shrugged. "About that far, sir."
Reece stepped aside as a house maid, Coleen, brought a cool compress for Sarah's ankle. When Sarah gasped as the cloth covered her injured ankle, Reece took his daughter's hand in both of his and kissed it tenderly. A tear ran down his cheek.
"Oh, Daddy. I'm okay, really." Her own tears accompanied her father's.
Bill stood to leave, the family moment becoming too much for him.
"I know, child," Reece said. "I just…"
Reese turned. "Bill, will you please sit down. Miss Coleen, bring us some water. Glasses and a pitcher. Thank you."
Bill remained standing, looking for the first opportunity to bolt. When Coleen handed him the glass of water he said a quiet "Thank you."
"Take a rest, Bill, and tell me what happened out there." Reece sat on the arm of Sarah's couch, resting his hand on her shoulder. He kept his gaze on Bill until the stubborn man sat down again.
"Daddy…." began Sarah.
"Sarah, just relax. Bill?" Reece shifted into full 'ranch owner' mode.
Bill hit the highlights, no embellishments, no fanfare. He apologized for not controlling the horse before she stepped on Sarah.
"That's nothing to apologize for, man." Reece paced around the parlor. "Sounds like quite an afternoon. I'm grateful for what you did for my daughter."
Standing again, Bill set his glass on the tray with the pitcher. "It was only what was proper." He nodded to Sarah. "I'll go check on Rosie."
"No," Reece commanded. "You're my guest for today." The least he could do for the man was feed him and let him rest comfortably after such a hectic afternoon.
Bill backed away from the ranch owner. "Oh, no, Mr. Gage. I could never impose…I'll just get back to the lower meadow, back to work."
"Damn it, Bill." Reece stepped up to the man, more grateful than words could express. "This is my daughter, my only child." He went back to the couch, took Sarah's hand. "Indulge a father's whim, please."
Resigned, Bill nodded his head. "Okay." He poured himself another glass of the cool water.
"Thank you. For everything." Reece shook the tall, stout Indian's hand.
Bill had a luxurious bath before a dinner that had more food than he'd seen in a month. He ate heartily. He'd dressed in some of Mr. Gage's work clothes and they almost fit. Now, he looked at the soft bed in the guest room. He took the quilt off the bed, folded it lengthwise and ended this strange day on the floor under the open window.